I see eleven running madnesses coming back to their precious volcanoes after a fermented day job.
The joy of doing what you love,
the breaths of your defeated limitations.
And I see people with their most unpretentious pulses;
flourishing like a jungle of liberation.
The path of a curved through ball and you can see the strikes of a dimensionless painter,
dribbles are like those wet sands you see in shores…segregated but connected to a single string.
The waves of celebrations…the flags…the jamming of a country full of birds.
My friends even if you don’t know what orgasms means, your eyes and your deepest reverberations know that from eternity.
And make no mistakes these collaborations of speeding art shows are fulfillment of the highest order.

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Photograph: Kobi Refaeli.